Culture Shock
by Archangels-Werewolf
Summary: I was thinking one day that the world is getting soft. People complain and whinge all the time, particularly sports. So, with that in mind, heres a story about how they do it, Biker Mice style. Oneshot, just for fun. Cheers.


Here's just a quick one, not exactly sure what I was thinking when I wrote it, so if some parts appear a bit random, I apologise. I own nothing of the BMFM franchise, and I own no part of any of the characters mentioned by name. Have fun :)

**Culture Shock.**

"Ok punks," Stoker called out to all the recruits who were strapped into chairs. "We're on Earth approach. Get ready for some culture shock. Oh, and also," he added. "Treat these guys with respect. Not only are they the first Freedom Fighters I ever trained, they are also the best. If you cross them, you _will_ get your ass kicked. Any questions?"

A black-haired recruit feebly offered his hand. Stoker eyed him and nodded.

"What kind of culture shock, sir?"

"You're about to experience some of it right now," Stoker said with a toothy grin. He turned and sat back at the controls of the spacecraft and aimed directly for a large structure with a baseball bat and several rows of boxes on it.

When they realised he wasn't slowing down, the entire ship erupted in a hideous volley of screaming.

*

"Stoker...man, that mouse is one wild cat," Throttle said dryly while looking at their trashed bachelor pad.

Vinnie growled. "Oh man! And I've only had that new couch three days! Stoker ruins everything for us..."

"Come on, bro. With the amount of stuff you wreck, it would have only lasted a week," Modo brought Vinnie back to reality.

"I don't care; I want to be buried with it," said Vinnie, making a face.

The bros heard someone chuckling and turned to see their old mentor stumbling out of the wreckage, swaying as if he might have hit his head a little too hard. He turned his upper body sideways, trying to crack his spine back into position, but to no avail. Suddenly, one large muscular arm and another made of metal had encircled his waist and lifted him into the air.

"Hey Chief, how are you feeling?" Modo asked.

Struggling for breath, the older mouse could only gasp, "G-good."

Modo laughed, and set his father-figure down, who in turn moved on to Throttle.

"Hey Teach, good to see ya," the tan leader offered his superior a warm hug.

"Same to you," he said, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Carbine asked me to pass that on."

"Wait...pass it on?" Throttle asked, slightly suspicious.

"Yeah," Stoker said. "There was something else she wanted me to pass on but I don't think that would be appropriate," he added with a very smug look.

Vinnie sat on his bike with his arms folded, and gave Stoker a dirty look as he approached.

"What's wrong with you, punk?" he sneered.

"You trashed my house, old timer," Vinnie spat, trying to look as equally menacing.

"Oh! I'm sorry pal. Let me make it up to you," Stoker replied, pulling Vinnie into a hug.

"It's good to see you again, Stoke."

The Freedom Fighter general smiled, then an evil glint shone in his eye. "Same with you...punk," he answered, before bringing his knee up into Vinnie's stomach.

The white mouse doubled-over on the ground, gasping for breath, while Stoker merely laughed at how easily Vinnie could be lured into this. However, he soon felt a tail wrap around his leg and the general was also on the ground, flat on his ass. Throttle and Modo could hardly resist and soon the four of them were wrestling and punching each other amid a cloud of dust. Their usual ritual of horseplay when they got together.

After around ten minutes, they were all too tired to keep it up, and a group of sixteen young mice had formed a circle around the now panting teacher and proteges. All of them were amazed at the fact that these new guys, who didn't even live on Mars, were actually doing things such as hit, punch, choke and anything in between to their coach and he was letting them get away with it. It was totally unheard of.

*

Soon, the group were hooking into a massive lunch of root beer and hot dogs with mustard, onions and relish, all the while catching up and reporting things to each other how the wars on each of their planets were faring, all the while throwing around jovial banter that focused on body shape, riding skill, speed records and masculinity. The usual soldier talk.

"So, punk...you got a date with Charley yet?"

"_A _date? Come on, Grandpa, I've had heaps of dates with Charley-girl," Vinnie shot back.

"Hanging out at the Last Chance when you're bored doesn't count as a date, bro," Throttle said.

"Neither does her riding on the back seat of your bike every time we go somewhere," chimed Modo.

Stoker laughed, while Vinnie munched angrily on his hot dog.

"So, Stoke," Throttle gestured towards the new recruits. "Who are these guys?"

"The new line of Freedom Fighters. Not a bad bunch of comrades...but still punks. A bit like Vinnie," the mentor chuckled.

The white-furred mouse looked as if he was about to explode, but then knew that Stoker was only baiting him to get a reaction. Trying to get his goat. The best way to deal with this was to get him back with a bigger insult.

"What's wrong? Gonna break a nail?" Stoker grinned.

"Say, Stoke. Tell us that story again of when we caught you wearing women's clothes?"

Throttle laughed. "Oh yeah! That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. What made you do that anyway? You said you would tell us when we were older."

The group of new recruits stirred with laughter, but were abruptly stopped when Stoker cast a glare in their direction.

"Wow...looks like you got the troops well sorted," Modo noted.

"Yeah," said Stoker, putting his arms behind his head. "The first batch you put through usually have a lot of rough edges to them; things get better as you refine your style."

Throttle glanced over towards Modo at this comment and flexed his eyebrows.

Modo looked back, a sly smile slowly coming across his face.

They both nodded.

Modo grabbed Stokers arms and held them in place, and before the older mouse knew what was going on, Throttle dumped half the mustard bottle down the front of his pants.

"You little lowlifes! I only just got these pants."

"I think you're gonna have bigger problems than that in about five seconds, old timer," Vinnie cackled.

"Huh?"Stoker asked, before he started shifting uncomfortably in his trousers.

"Hehe, got a fire in your pants, Coach?" Throttle chuckled.

Stoker cocked his head to the side in a moment of confusion, and then glared at the tan furred mouse. Then, without warning, Throttle was spear-tackled and slammed into the floor, his teacher pummeling his face, while pausing every couple of seconds to try and relieve the burning sensation on his manhood. They were soon joined by the other two bros who were occupying the Earth, only too happy to have another rumble; their favourite male bonding pastime.

*

After their second brawl of the day, it was decided that a game of Gridiron was in order. There was no training at Quigley field that day and the sunshine was beautiful. Two teams were settled upon: Throttle, Vinnie, Modo and Stoker onto the rest. Mammajammers versus Punks.

A brief rundown on the rules was given to the sixteen recruits (or _rule_ anyway: whoever has the ball gets taken out. They were playing Biker Mice style). After taking their appropriate ends of the field, Modo booted the ball to the recruits so they could return the punt.

A young mouse with short brown hair caught the ball, and then actually realised just what he had done. He had just marked himself for total annihilation from three badasses who lived on a different planet and his teacher, who was hard in his own right. Strangely, the Mammajammers didn't rush at him. They just casually jogged from their end of the field.

The recruit with the ball began to walk towards the centre of the field, the gap between the teams closing fast. Then, Vinnie began sprinting at him, so he passed the ball to another team member, who began to also run, trying to keep his distance from the Mammajammers.

The brown hair recruit watched his friend run for a couple of seconds, and then turned...

Just in time to see Vinnie crash-tackle him!

_CRUNCH!_

Both mice fell head over heels onto the ground, Vinnie chuckling after the world had stopped spinning. He got up and began to get back into the game.

"Hey! I didn't...have the ball!" the recruit gasped.

"Really? My mistake, sweetheart!" he called back, laughing.

After ten minutes of play, the Mammajammers were leading 6 – 0. The Punks had to sideline three players due to injury.

And Modo had the ball. Easily the biggest team member by half a foot. He could walk through them if he wanted and still score.

The Punks were demoralized. The were all sore, down on points and their backs were to the wall. It was time to show exactly what they were made of. They were Freedom Fighters. And Freedom Fighters don't quit.

It started easily enough, with Modo jogging down the field, but he soon put the ball under his left arm and charged down the centre. The Punks put their game faces on and began to mimic his actions, determined to take him down.

The big fellow tried to plough through the group but one took out his left leg, three dived towards his torso and another smashed into his face. In the massive assault, Modo dropped the ball as he fell to the ground, whereupon it was picked up by one of the Punks and took it down the end of the field, scoring their first point.

Stoker went over to the fallen Martian and offered his hand, which Modo took gratefully.

"I think they're starting to get the hang of this," Modo smiled. "I can see where they get their determination from."

Stoker stood there, and for a moment, he watched the recruits celebrating their first goal and the circumstances they had gotten it. He smiled. And even though he would never say it, he was proud of them. For not giving up. For not backing down just because someone bigger came along. For working as a team. It was indescribable seeing these kids, most of them orphans from the war, working together against their adversary. They really were Freedom Fighters.

*

Soon, the day was over, and the recruits all filed into the ship to fly back to Mars. The Biker Mice stood at the door, shaking each of their hands for the good day. Stoker brought up the rear of the group.

"Brothers, I hope you're able to return to Mars one day soon."

"So do we Stoker. We'll be back back. Someday," said Throttle, shaking his mentors hand.

"Yeah, just as soon as we boot Cheese-face's butt back to Plutark," added Modo, smiling.

"We might need to take over training the Freedom Fighters; you'll be getting too old to do it," said Vinnie, laughing.

_BIFF!_

Vinnie's laughter was cut short by Stoker's fist colliding with his jaw, knocking him into Throttle and Modo and sending them all crashing to the floor.

"You say something punk?" Stoker grinned, knowing full well what was going to happen.

"Yep," Vinnie said, rubbing his jaw.

"Me too," added Throttle.

"And me," Modo finished.

Then, simultaneously, the three Biker Mice advanced on their mentor and took him down to the ground. Only this time, the bros heard someone call out from the ship, "Freedom Fighters! Attack!"

Soon, the bros were assailed by the recruits who were in the ship when the brawl started. A mass of tails, ears and fur was all that could be seen as punching, tripping, throwing and headlocks were exchanged between the rowdy bunch.

Now they _really_ were Freedom Fighters.

**T  
H  
END**


End file.
